Long as I'm with Mr Quirrell
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Voldemort wants to try something different. AVPM inspired. Set after AVPM. Quirellmort! Oneshot.


**Long as I'm with Mr. Quirrell**

Voldemort smiled to himself, closing his eyes as he felt the rhythmic breathing of Quirrell behind him. He felt calm against his warmth, content and even, dare he say it, happy. So very, very happy. No Potter, no "rule the world" nonsense, no Bellatrix shrieking at him day and night, no. Just him and Quirrel.

He smiled again. Suddenly his eyes snapped open as a thought struck him. He chewed his lip nervously wondering if he should vocalize his desire or not. He sighed, face quirking into a tiny frown.

"Hey, Quirrell," he said softly, getting the sense of déjà vu.

"Mm?" The man beside him said sleepily.

"Are you awake?" He inquired.

"I am now. Is there something wrong?"

Voldemort paused, embarrassed. "I…I just…ya know, never mind. Go back to sleep," he said, shaking his head, blushing a little.

_Me, the Dark Lord, blushing. I mean what the hell?_

"No, no," Quirrell sat up, looking at him. The pale man ducked away, not meeting his eyes. "Tell me."

"I- it's nothing, really," he said. "Goodnight, Quirrell."

"Voldemort," Quirrell said quietly, putting his hand on his former master's shoulder. Voldemort's heart skipped a beat. "Please, tell me."

He sighed, growling a little. "Like I can say no to _that_!" He shook his head, sighing. "I…I was just wondering if maybe…maybe you'd like to try something else."

Quirrell smiled gently, understanding that, despite his tone and usual demanding behavior, Voldemort was shy. He laid back down, trying to make him feel a little more at ease. "Like what?"

"Um, well…I thought it might be cool if we, um, faced each other?" He mumbled. Quirrell's eyes grew and he stifled a grin.

"I think I can manage that." Voldemort smiled against his will, suddenly very excited.

"You can?" He asked happily.

"Mmhm," Quirrell smiled. He rolled over, waiting patiently for the man beside him to do the same.

Slowly, with his lips folded, the Dark Lord rolled over and found himself facing Quirrell. He smiled. "Hi." Voldemort found himself blushing again, much to his intense anger.

"Hi," he muttered. Quirrell's smile was warm now. Very slowly and tentatively, he reached out, cupping his face in his hand and gently thumbing his cheek. Voldemort sighed.

"This is nice," he remarked blissfully.

"It is," the professor agreed. Voldemort sighed again, snuggling against Quirrell's chest, listening to his heart beat.

"I'm so sorry for how I treated you, Quirrell," he said softly. "I felt so…so empty without you. Like a part of me was missing."

"My lor- um, Voldemort, there were seven pieces of you missing," he said pointedly. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know that! This was different, though. I…I missed you," he whispered. Quirrell wrapped his arms around him, gently stroking his hair.

"I missed you too," he confessed. Voldemort hugged him back, welcoming the embrace. He looked up at Quirrell with almost innocent eyes, a look that he'd received before.

"I…I've never been held before," he said in a small voice. Quirrell squeezed tighter, resting his cheek on his head.

"You have now," he assured, smiling. Voldemort smiled back, sighing into his chest. "Hey." Quirrell lifted his chin and slowly, even cautiously, leaned forward.

The kiss he gave was a simple brush against his lips, butterfly soft, barely even there. It was enough to startle Voldemort. He jumped, staring up at him with wide eyes, mouth open slightly.

"Oh…" he breathed. He himself leaned toward him, hesitating.

"It's okay," Quirrell assured. "I mean, it's just me."

He hovered over his lips, heart pounding, nervous for the most ridiculous reasons. He swallowed hard and closed the gap between them, kissing him.

It was soft, chaste even. The first innocent thing the Dark Lord had ever done. His heart thudded against his ribcage, his hands fisting Quirrell's shirt. They broke apart, leaving them both gasping, surprised at themselves.

"Quirrell, how do you get your lips that soft?" He asked seriously.

"ChapStick works wonders, my lord," he smiled. He nodded in agreement.

"That…that was very nice," he said, adverting his eyes.

"Yes it was," Quirrell said, holding him close again. He kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, Voldemort."

He immersed himself in the former teacher, face in his chest, body nestled against him. "Goodnight, Quirrell." He shut his eyes, slipping peacefully into oblivion in his arms. Finally home.

**END**


End file.
